Anguished widow Michele Christie believes she ruined her precious final months with her dying husband with endless deathbed visits

On Saturday, the Mail published an excoriating open letter from anguished widow Michele Christie to the friends and family she believes ruined her precious final months with her dying husband with endless deathbed visits.

She wrote of her abiding sense of anger over their well-meaning but ultimately ‘insensitive and self-serving’ invasion of their Devon home in the weeks before the death in August of her husband, Dick Mason.

Michele, 51, said she will always regret not banning them from visiting when all the couple wanted was peace, quiet and, above all, privacy.

Her sentiments touched a raw nerve with readers, prompting hundreds to write in. Some applauded Michele’s decision to speak out, while others accused her of bitterness of spirit by resenting the natural desire of friends and relatives to let a dying loved one know they care.

What emerged from your responses was that grief — far from uniting friends and relatives as they prepare for the loss of a loved one — can sometimes drive a wedge between them, leading to lasting feelings of sorrow, resentment, guilt and anger. Today, we publish your poignant stories, beginning with the tragic experience of young widow Bekka Cardy, 32, who — unlike Michele — did put her foot down over deathbed visits at her dying husband’s request. What happened next will truly shock you.

Desperately ill with an inoperable brain tumour, young father James Cardy was exhausted by the stream of visitors who flocked to his hospital bedside — often unannounced.

James knew they all loved him. He loved and wanted to see them, too, but increasingly, he confessed to his wife Bekka, he just couldn’t cope. By nature a kind, sociable and selfless man, he worried more about upsetting others than his own needs. So, James would summon up his dwindling reserves of energy to talk to them, when all he really wanted to do was sleep, with his adored wife sitting by his side or his parents and younger brother.

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Often when James was too ill even to cuddle his baby daughter Lyssia, he would put on a show of recovery to guests so they could leave comforted. Afterwards, he would be drained.

‘James was so brave. He never once moaned or complained about what he was going through, even when he felt terrible,’ says Bekka, a science teacher from Kent. ‘We knew the brain tumour would eventually kill him, but he was determined to live as long as he could for his family.’

James died on January 9 aged just 29, after suffering a brain bleed caused by a massive seizure during yet another round of chemotherapy. Today, his widow can only sympathise with Michele Christie.

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Bekka Cardy, 32, unlike Michele, did put her foot down over deathbed visits at her dying husband’s request

Unlike Michele, however, Bekka did put her foot down after her husband James begged her to stop anyone — apart from his closest family — from visiting him when he was ill in hospital.

Only when there was no hope left, he said, could everyone come to say their goodbyes.

Bekka followed her husband’s wishes to the letter, but was it the right thing to do? She still thinks so, despite the bitter reaction it provoked. While the majority of family and friends respected James’s wishes and supported Bekka, some were outraged. Nor did they soften when Bekka faced a second harrowing loss, when she’d not yet come to terms with the first.

The couple’s daughter Lyssia was diagnosed with leukaemia barely a week after her father’s funeral and died in July, aged 14 months, following a failed bone marrow transplant.

Mourners at her funeral were stunned to overhear one — who turned up uninvited — bitterly suggest it was ‘karma’ for keeping them from James. It was an unbelievably cruel and crass thing to say, but it suggests how deeply resentment can run in such situations.

Bekka and husband James. Her refusal to allow endless deathbed visits, which he asked not to have, provoked bitter reaction from family and friends

It is only nine months since Bekka’s husband died, and barely three since baby Lyssia quietly passed away in her mother’s arms, but Bekka speaks with a rare composure and lack of bitterness towards those who have, overwhelmed by their own sorrow, added an extra layer of torment to her suffering.

She tries to see things from their viewpoint and understands that grief sometimes makes people say things they might regret, but it isn’t always easy. The tears in her eyes are testament to that. ‘How can anyone suggest a baby’s death is karma or that in some way I deserved to be punished because I tried to protect my husband by simply carrying out his wishes? It was what James wanted, not me,’ says Bekka.

‘Grief is so raw it can tear families apart and no matter what you decide, I don’t think anyone can win. Everyone wants the chance to see the person who is dying, but it’s impossible to please them all.

‘We spent some lovely times as a family, and made the effort to see friends and family when James felt able. I feel no guilt for keeping people away when it was necessary. People don’t appreciate how draining it is caring for a terminally ill loved one. Peace and time together is so important.

‘Even when James tried to explain it was his decision, some people still blamed me.’

Bekka misses James desperately and is bereft at losing Lyssia, who was the spitting image of her father.

‘After Lyssia was diagnosed with leukaemia, I was so distraught I said to my mum: “If I lose Lyssia, too, I’m going to kill myself.” I thought life wouldn’t be worth living,’ says Bekka, who has taken a year’s unpaid compassionate leave from teaching. ‘Then I thought of James and how brave he’d been. He inspired me to carry on. What’s the alternative?’

It was love at first sight when Bekka met shoe-repairer James through friends in June 2012. Diagnosed with a brain tumour in January 2011, he had undergone radiotherapy, chemotherapy and surgery, during which most of the tumour — the size of an orange — was removed. The rest was too close to major blood vessels in the brain, but shrank with further chemotherapy.

‘You would never have guessed he’d been so ill. He was so fit and healthy, going to the gym and doing martial arts. I did talk to my family and friends about whether I should get involved, knowing the cancer could come back, but there was no choice really. We were made for each other and I was prepared to take that risk,’ says Bekka, who lives with her mother, 59, a nurse, and father, 61, who runs his own building company.

The couple's daughter Lyssia was diagnosed with leukaemia not long after her father's death

The couple had every reason to be optimistic. James’s last round of chemo had been successful; the tumour had shrunk and he needed no further treatment at that point. For ten months his health had been stable.

To everyone’s surprise, Bekka became pregnant with Lyssia in September 2012, just three months after the couple met. He proposed the following January, dropping to one knee and presenting Bekka with an engagement ring during a romantic meal.

‘James said he wanted to get married and have children with me from almost the day we met. The cancer had made him value life all the more and he wanted to make the most of every second,’ says Bekka.

‘Lyssia was planned, but neither of us expected me to fall pregnant so quickly. We thought the cancer treatment might have affected James’s fertility. Before starting chemo he had stored sperm to use for IVF.’

Bekka was eight weeks pregnant when James fell ill. A scan revealed the tumour had started to grow again. He underwent further surgery, followed by chemotherapy.

When that failed to shrink the tumour, he had yet more surgery in February 2013. Just two days before Bekka went into labour in June 2013, James had completed yet another round of debilitating chemo.

‘James never left my side. He must have felt terrible, but he never complained once. I’ll never forget the sight of him with our newborn daughter Lyssia lying on his chest.

‘He was phoning his best friend and all he could say was: “There are no words to describe how wonderful it is.” When he’d first been diagnosed with cancer, he’d never dreamed he could be a father. He was besotted with Lyssia.’

Bekka only ever saw James cry once. That came shortly after Lyssia’s birth when doctors told him the tumour was growing yet again. He had more surgery in August last year, then a round of chemo, which also failed. A drain was inserted to remove fluid building up on the brain, causing James to suffer severe seizures.

Bekka regularly posted updates on Facebook, but relatives and friends, fearing the worst, naturally wanted to see him to offer their love and support. Feeling overwhelmed, Bekka says, James asked her to intervene.

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‘I can see how some must have resented being told to stay away by me, someone who’d been in James’s life for a short time when they’d known him all his life. But I was only doing what James wanted.

‘In these situations emotions do run high, but his welfare was my priority. James always used to tell me the easy decisions were not always the right ones. Difficult though it was, I feel we made the right choice.’

The first sign of division came when one couple who’d been invited to the Cardys’ November wedding responded to the invitation saying they’d attend the ceremony but not the reception, citing ill health. Knowing how upset James would be, Bekka — fearing there was more to their refusal — begged them to reconsider for his sake.

In the end they did come and though Bekka says it was a lovely day that passed without incident, James seemed pained by the chill towards his wife from some of their guests, who arrived without presents.

Bekka only ever saw her husband James cry once. That came shortly after Lyssia’s birth when doctors told him that his brain tumour was growing yet again

James and Bekka did not know how long they would have as husband and wife, but the end came much sooner than either of them expected.

On January 7, James went into hospital for another round of chemotherapy, but fell into a coma after suffering a massive seizure that caused bleeding on the brain. He died two days later, after — true to James’s wishes — Bekka invited everyone to come and say their goodbyes.

His room was crowded with loved ones and the mood civil, but this didn’t last for the funeral.

There were disagreements over who would carry his coffin and the type of service James — a non-believer — had asked his wife to organise.

There was also, Bekka claims, unseemly behaviour from some people in the form of tutting and shaking of heads whenever anything nice was said about her during the service.

James and Bekka did not know how long they would have as husband and wife, but the end came much sooner than either of them expected

Afterwards a distraught Bekka felt incredibly hurt to find herself blocked from a Facebook memorial page for James set up by family and friends. Far greater torment, however, was to come.

‘Lyssia was poorly at James’s funeral and when I noticed a bruise on her leg at home that night, I immediately thought: “It’s leukaemia.” But then told myself I was being paranoid,’ says Bekka.

She took Lyssia to their GP, who ordered blood tests as a precaution. Before the results were ready, Lyssia’ suddenly deteriorated and was rushed to A&E.

When tests confirmed Bekka’s suspicions of leukaemia, Lyssia was transferred to the intensive care unit at Great Ormond Street Hospital in London.

Lyssia was poorly at James’s funeral and when I noticed a bruise on her leg at home that night, I immediately thought: “It’s leukaemia.”

Becca Cardy, 32

‘It all happened so quickly. I didn’t have time to think about how unfair or cruel life was.

‘I’d only just lost my husband, and now I could lose our baby.

‘But having been through it all with James, I knew I had to stay calm and positive, place my trust in the doctors and hope for the best.’

Apart from a short time when she was allowed home, Lyssia would spend the final six months of her life in hospital.

She underwent chemo five times, but the cancer was so aggressive her only hope was a bone marrow transplant. She received one, but that, too, failed and five weeks later, Lyssia — a fighter like her dad — died in her mother’s arms after doctors told Bekka there was nothing more they could do.

‘James used to say to me: “At least you’ll be the one able to watch Lyssia growing up.” That was my only comfort, but then she was gone too. I felt as if I’d lost everything. Sometimes I didn’t know how I’d cope without her. For two days, I held her in my arms, cuddling her, saying goodbye,’ says Bekka, who’ll be forever grateful to the medical teams who cared for James and Lyssia.

Bekka often wonders if her daughter’s chemo-resistant cancer was caused by the treatment James received before they met. Though doctors assured her this is unlikely, she can’t believe it was just bad luck.

Bekka wanted her last goodbye to Lyssia to be special and feels nothing but anguish that her baby’s funeral was marred by the lingering ill-feeling following her husband’s death.

Bekka often wonders if her daughter’s chemo-resistant cancer was caused by the treatment James received before they met

Unable to cope with any more unpleasantness, she politely asked those who had tutted through James’s funeral and blocked her from his memorial site to stay away.

‘I can see they may have felt they had a right to be there, but my dad was so worried about me that he hired two security guards in case anyone who was not welcome tried to get in,’ says Bekka, who was horrified to see them arrive at the crematorium regardless.

‘I think they were trying to make a point. My mother was very upset when she heard one of them suggest that Lyssia’s death was karma. I’d just lost my baby.’

With the support of her parents, two sisters, friends and members of James’s family to whom she is still close, Bekka is slowly coming to terms with her grief.

One of James’s last wishes was for his ashes to be scattered over the Great Barrier Reef. He loved travelling and this place held special memories for him. Bekka plans to scatter Lyssia’s ashes along with James’s when she travels to Australia next year.

Then she will return and try to pick up the threads of her old life. She doesn’t know what the future holds, but is convinced that all the decisions she and James made in their final precious months together were the right ones — despite their sad legacy.

More moving stories you shared

Here are some of the other stories — positive and negative — you shared with us after reading Michele Christie’s letter in the Mail to those she claimed spoilt her husband’s last days . . .

Love and scones helped us through

Marion Pollard, 67, from Ryton, Tyne & Wear, is a retired civil servant. Her husband David died aged 66 from mesothelioma

Marion Pollard, 67, from Ryton, Tyne & Wear, is a retired civil servant. Her husband David died aged 66 from mesothelioma — a type of cancer — last October. Her daughter Alex died from malignant melanoma in 2007 at the age of 36. She says:

The afternoon of October 28, 2013, was almost perfect in every way. The sun shining, I remember glancing at David as he shared out sweets, laughing with six of our friends, beaming his wonderful familiar, warm smile.

I will treasure the memory of his happy face that day, and the friends who gathered around him. Because just five hours after they waved goodbye, David, my husband of 45 years, died in my arms.

Those who had come to see us were coming to bid farewell, but their robust company turned his last hours into a celebration of his life, rather than an acknowledgement of his looming death.

I was saddened to read Michele Christie’s view. My neighbour brought me the article in tears. “Did I push myself on you both?” she asked.

I reassured her that her cheerful company and home-baked scones helped us through our darkest hours.

Six years earlier, David and I had lost our daughter Alex to malignant melanoma. She, too, spent her last day with friends and I remember what a comfort it was then that her final hours were spent so happily.

Loved ones have a right to say goodbye

Mother-of-one and teacher Zoe Webb, 33, lives in Leeds. Her father Reginald died aged 77 in March after a long battle with Alzheimer’s

Mother-of-one and teacher Zoe Webb, 33, lives in Leeds. Her father Reginald died aged 77 in March after a long battle with Alzheimer’s. She says:

I cared for my father for ten years, but in the end he deteriorated quickly after contracting pneumonia and died less than a week later. I was an only child who adored my father, who’d owned a nursing business before he retired.

Before he went into hospital, I would drive the hour from Leeds to his home in Manchester almost nightly to put him to bed. I washed him, dressed him and cared for him.

During his final week, he was in hospital and lots of people came to visit him. I think it would have been selfish and cruel to not let those who loved him say goodbye.

My father was in unbearable pain in the end and had little knowledge of what was going on, but I felt that he held on to say farewell to those who came to see him.

I slept at his bedside and relished it when people came to see him. It gave me a chance to see my two-year-old son Jack, to have a wash, to get something to eat.

Family and friends have a right to say goodbye, it is an important part of the grieving process. I would never forgive myself if I’d prevented that from happening.

To do otherwise, is, in my opinion, ungrateful and unfair.

Visitors were a link to the past

Media analyst Claire Enders, 56, from Notting Hill, West London, nursed her father — former U.S. Ambassador Thomas Enders — before his death in March 1997

Media analyst Claire Enders, 56, from Notting Hill, West London, nursed her father — former U.S. Ambassador Thomas Enders — before his death in March 1997. She lost her mother Gaetana to cancer in May. She says:

Throughout my father’s final two months, after his sudden diagnosis of terminal cancer at the age of just 63, as a family we experienced an intense and exclusive love.

I resented those who infringed on this time. Yet a constant stream of people insisted on visiting, eating into our precious last weeks together.

I was infuriated by the way colleagues insisted on seeing him, even when the cancer had affected his brain.

They remembered a great man who led others and spoke so fluently, but they saw a dying man who was drooling.

I was experiencing death for the first time and the agony felt worse because I was being forced to share his remaining time.

When my mother died from cancer at the age of 84 in May, I had the confidence to set rules.

A week before she died, she began to slip away and we decided we didn’t want her to be remembered in this condition.

But her very closest friends still came to say goodbye and I realised that, like those who had visited my father, they were a vital link to the past.

I realise now that everyone has a rich life and friends are an essential part of this, helping you enjoy the past and to celebrate a life.